Left a Hole Where My Heart Should Be
by Child of Mars
Summary: Once, Cora knew a man. A man of magic. A man who gave her a book of spells and took her baby's tears and met her, blast for blast, power for power, in a magical battle that nearly destroyed them both. This is the story of how Cora Mills seduced the Dark One for the second time, the time she ripped his heart from his chest. Rate T for non-graphic magical violence and implied sex.


_**Author's Notes: This piece...was difficult to do. Went through at least one complete transformation. I've always been a die-hard Cora hater. Sure, I pity her for the choices she made but I never viewed her with sympathy. Then, as I wrote this, I reached a moment where I actually, for a terrible split second, actually UNDERSTOOD HER. EVEN PITIED HER. I remember pacing around my house, unable to sit down for a few minutes, frowning and muttering and furious with her and myself. So yes, this is a work of love. Could still be better, as usual, but I certainly hope you enjoy it. **_

**_ANYWAY: This is supposed to be that huge fight between them mentioned in Season 2, where Rumplestiltskin won in the end but Cora told a different story...it's supposed to explain why Rumplestiltskin never came back until Regina summoned him, where the spell book came from, and where Rumple got Regina's tears, basically. I CANNOT ACCEPT THAT CORA IS ZELENA'S MOTHER. I THINK THE POOR GREEN WITCH IS JUST SUPER MISINFORMED AND CONFUSED. Please review! :)_**

* * *

**Left a Hole Where My Heart Should Be**

The great hall had been darkened. Heavy, thick drapes of black muslin covered the tall windows set in stone above them, effectively keeping out the sunlight and holding in the shadows. The darkness was warm from the crackling heat of a dozen torches.

Her platform heels scuffing at the marble floor as she walked, Cora strode to the center of the hall and crossed her arms impatiently. "Well," the corner of her lips twitched into a scornful smile. Miles of stiff fabric and whalebone creaked as she leaned forward threateningly. "I'm _waiting_."

Crouching on the floor before her, a huddled old woman dragged the tail of a cow along the marble flagstones, leaving a long red trail of ink or maybe blood. At least, Cora hoped it was blood. And not because she had any morbid fetishes or enjoyed seeing someone's life-juice rushing out of them. She simply knew that blood was a far more potent magical ingredient than tree sap mixed with powder and gods knew what else.

She lifted a finely penciled eyebrow as she watched the woman work. She paid special attention to her hands. They were soft and wrinkled, bony at the knuckles and swollen at the finger joints. Tips blunted flat by years of working with her hands. And yet, after all this time and all the abuse those hands must have suffered, they didn't tremble at all.

They should have, really, since Cora could have the old hag executed the very moment she ceased to please the Queen. The woman was already in danger of losing her home. This, the darkness and the blood and more to come…this was her last, desperate bid to win the Queen's fickle mercy. Still, the old woman hadn't answered her question; Cora didn't know whether to smile at her obstinacy or scorn her stupidity. "Don't make me repeat myself, woman."

"Yes…your majesty," the old woman stood suddenly, grunting as her old bones strained. If she'd been a fat, well fed noble, her knees might have popped. As it was, her skeletal frame was child's play for her brittle body to carry. Stepping outside the circle she had drawn she held the tail out over the very center of the design and let it drip, whispering softly to herself. Red spots appeared as if by magic upon the ground. Little golden hearts of light floated deep inside them, reflections of the torchlight.

Ignoring the spectacle completely, like a theatre critic ignoring cheap props, Cora leaned her head sideways and peered carefully into that wizened face. Here was the true performer, the true artist. Under her smudged, wrinkled brow and dirty white hair, a pair of eyes glowed, as grey as stone and as sharp as a sword. A small, tight mouth smiled grimly under a stub nose that must have been beautiful, once upon a time. But Cora noticed these details and then forgot about them. She was searching for something else entirely…the Mark.

The Mark of Magic. She'd seen it only once before, and just that glimpse had been enough to make her certain that she could recognize it again.

The old woman seemed absorbed enough. She didn't blink as a guard passed a torch into her outstretched hand. When she finally turned to meet Cora's gaze, her eyes were hard and icy. She seemed out of breath, as if she'd been swimming for miles in the black depths of the sea. "If it pleases her majesty to step back."

Cora took orders from no one. Yet, what the old woman had given her was hardly a command; more of a suggestion. Even so, a bitter heat crept up the Queen's neck and she smiled coldly at the hag before lifting her foot out, planting her heel on the ground, and taking one, slow, deliberate step forwards. Not because she was being foolish. She was merely fearless. Magic held no terror for her. She wasn't afraid of the pain and ice and emptiness it would bring. She'd already felt that. No, she _wanted_ to feel it. Again, and again, and again. She smiled at the crone, "Proceed."

The old woman's mouth tightened in annoyance.

"Cora…" a man's voice said quietly, meekly from a ways behind her. Cora's smile widened, but the way her hooded eyelids twitched and her gloved fist clenched into her silken gown suggested she would like to tear out the throat that housed that voice. "Cora, dear…maybe you should do as she asks. I mean, it's bad enough we're doing this at all. If Xavier finds out…"

"Who is king now, Henry?" Cora's voice cut him off like a whiplash, "You? Or your _father_."

Henry's mouth closed, and he graced the back of his wife's head with an unhappy look. As if she'd felt it, Cora turned her head suddenly and glared at him. "You'd do well to remember, my dear, who is _queen_ now."

She turned her attention back to the old woman, "Go on."

With the torch still flickering in her hand, casting dim shadows that seemed to writhe over her wrinkled face, the woman crouched down. Lifting her arm up, she cried, "Terbathi forlandur corburgdurr!" and slammed downwards.

With an echoing crack, the torch embedded itself in the center of the bloody design, its iron tip biting through the mortar between the marble as spider-thin cracks splintered outwards.

The old woman stood up and, with the aid of a mysterious breeze, swept her rags around herself majestically. Her thin, grey hair flowed back from her shoulders as she lifted up both her arms and shouted at the sky. Then, like two fluttering birds, her hands waved rapidly over the torch with a frantic, intense energy.

With a hissing spatter, it turned green. Then red. Then bright, cold, icy blue. The old woman moaned and clutched at herself as if the fire was somehow burning her soul. Smoke rose, steaming white towards the roof like a ghostly snake. Under the changing colors and the hiss of a crackling fire, she pointed at Cora. "The queen…the queen, born by the great groan of a grinding stone…born where no king has ever been."

Her eyes had widened at the sudden display of color and sound, but now Cora smirked. Her history was no secret among the peasant folk. Everyone knew of the Miller's Daughter who spun straw into gold and won herself a kingdom. She held her hands out to the coloring flames, as if to get warm from a mundane campfire. She was mocking the woman, but she was also trying to _feel_ what she felt…to feel the heat, the smoke, to somehow absorb the hypnotic glare in the old woman's eyes.

"Fated to a life on both sides of the sun, mother to a child with a heart torn in two…the daughter of a queen who hid her heart away, waiting, always waiting, for _him_ to come again."

Cora's eyes flew to the old woman's like blades of lightning. The sudden, fierce fire that smoldered in them was terrible to look at. The hag swallowed roughly, but pushed on with her chant, emboldened by the realization that she was indeed having some effect on the queen.

"The man of magic, the hidden love…no king is he, he slips away with the sun."

In the black shadows nearest the wall, Henry's eyes dropped to the floor. It pained him to hear of this other man, this strange Imp that had helped Cora survive his father's harsh ultimatum. The one who took the bold, funny, bright and beautiful girl he'd met at the ball, and turned her into a sharp, cold, burning woman hell-bent on getting everything she'd ever wanted. A woman on fire with her never-satisfied desires.

There was silence. At least for about two minutes. "Pull down the drapes," Cora shouted angrily, her voice deep and raw. She swept her skirts around as she stalked back up the stairs, away from the bloody, blackened mess on the floor. "And put that out where it belongs," she snarled, pointing at the old woman without pausing in her stride.

More angered than afraid, the hag threw the tail down into the blood with a dull splat and crashed stubbornly to her knees. "I did what you asked!" she cried, protesting as the guards roughly seized her by the arms, "I gave you magic!"

"Oh!" Cora snapped, wheeling around with eyes that were dim and glittering with pain, "_please_." She moved down the stairs again until she stood directly before the old woman, the edges of her purple gown dragging through the red puddle. "Your biggest mistake was wasting years of your life perfecting this little illusion. Cow's blood, dwarven powder, and a bit of hypnotism! I've _seen_ magic, old woman…I've seen it glowing on a spinning wheel in the shadows, churning, deep and dark, in a man's eyes. Felt its heat rush along my skin and, for a moment, I had the power to do anything in the world, anything at all. And you _dare_ waste my time with this ritualistic farce?!"

The guards automatically hoisted the woman to her feet again. Even as they began moving away towards the great double doors, she dug her feet into the flagstones and flung her body forward, unbalancing her captors. Cora lifted her head arrogantly, but the old woman was far from intimidated. Her grey eyes smoldering, she snarled at Cora without fear, "You may find your man of magic again, your _majesty_…but it will be an ill day for him. You may be joined together by dark magic, but nothing in your black heart can ever join happily with that monster's!"

Cora blinked. Then she smiled slowly. Her eyes traveled up to stare, unseeing, at the stained glass windows as the servants peeled away the curtains and the first rays of the late sun bathed her in a golden-white glow. "Oh, that doesn't worry me, dear. You see, I have no heart."

* * *

They'd served her favorite food for dinner, as she ordered them to. She'd spent the evening running conversational fences around the dimwitted courtiers who surrounded her. She'd danced the thin line of disrespect and admiration as she bickered with Xavier, poking him with her poisonous verbal barbs. She'd snubbed Henry for being a voiceless, faceless sap while his father ran the kingdom for him. She'd shrugged off her stiff dress and slipped into her best silk nightgown and then into a bed stuffed with cloud-like elder down, the smoothest of materials. And yet even now, as her thick brown curls softly pillowed her cheek and her body relaxed under the warm, white moonlight, she was miserable.

She could feel a headache coming on, probably caused by all the rage she'd been bottling up for what seemed like years. Rage against a halved happiness, riches without power, a throne without magic. A husband she loathed but married anyway simply because she wanted his trappings of prestige…a man so meek and mild that, compared to Cora's vibrant way of looking at the world, he hardly seemed _alive_.

Not a day went by that she didn't wonder if she'd made a mistake.

She lay there for hours, somehow consciously watching as the moonbeams crawled farther and farther up the wall until it finally peeked into her mirror and bounced back at her, a white glare that seemed to poke at her mind, scolding her for her lethargy.

For some reason, the covers suddenly seemed to simmer with heat, prickling her skin. With a groan of frustration she kicked the blankets off and slid out of bed, the edge of her nightgown riding up around her knees before falling in a soft ring around her feet again once she straightened.

She strode softly towards the window and leaned on the balcony, gazing down at the garden below. The night air was chilly, pushing her cool nightgown against her knees. Funny how warm she'd been just an instant before.

She remembered too, just a few months before, leaning out of a prison window to stare at the rushing river below, the sound that had lulled her to sleep every night as an infant. Her rough, greasy woolens replaced by a stolen scarlet ball gown. The icy feeling of thick, cold stone against her bare arms, the light, feathery breeze that seemed to play with her hair and brush softly down her back into the room beyond. Almost as if a friendly angel had touched her, gently reminding her not to jump, not to die…to stop staring at the dizzying void of miniature people below.

Well, Cora had been a little too busy to pay attention to a guardian angel. If he'd existed at all, her life of misfortune obviously hadn't benefited from it. Besides…Cora didn't believe in angels. No such thing as heavenly creatures that helped people…all people, _any_ people…just because they could. So she ignored the breeze.

Until she heard the voice.

Well, the giggle, actually. Someone's childish, unsuppressed laughter, laughing just because he could. She wheeled around as a voice followed the sound…a thin, weedy voice. "That's never gonna work!"

The most extraordinary creature she'd ever laid eyes on leaned against the opposite wall before her. And by extraordinary, she wasn't talking about his looks. She's seen countless court nobles wearing more outrageous clothes than the leather suit with its wicked fringes and scales. Even his frizzled brown hair and sparkling skin…that also had scales on it, by the way…didn't faze her.

It was something else entirely, the unshakable feeling that, in his pockets, he held the solutions to all her woes. All she had to do was reach out.

"I mean, you'll escape, but you'll be dead. Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

She welcomed his presence. She didn't spare a thought to how he'd gotten there, or why, or what would he think of her, alone and locked into this tiny room far away from help. But just because she was fearless didn't mean she was stupid. She had to keep him talking, give herself time to watch him and come to know him and how he could help her. "Who are you?" She asked sharply.

His eyes, she noticed, were a dull, milky brown flecked with gold. His pupils were almost the same color, hidden under the layers…she couldn't read him very well. At the moment, the golden pinpoints of light made of reflected torchlight served far better as a point for her to focus on. He bounced the question right back at her playfully, flicking his hand towards her as he did so. "Who are you?"

There was no harm in answering. No harm in pleasing the strange creature, keeping him talking so she could reap the help his presence offered her. "Cora."

And his reply, mocking and useless with just the slightest hint of an intense concentration that simmered in his eyes…"Not a very pretty name, is it? Sounds like something breaking."

That was it. She was hooked. For so, so many reasons already; his power, his ability to help, his strangeness…but also the fact that he saw her as a person, a person he could mock and irritate and poke fun at yet also talk with, back and forth. He would not dismiss her like Xavier did. He was on her playing field, despite all the fantastic power he wielded. Cora felt a string of energy latch from her chest to his, connecting her to this being.

Even now, she felt it. As she thought about it, the imaginary golden thread seemed to tighten and burn, despite her lack of a heart. The mundane, sickeningly soft bed of moonlight with its bland white purity seemed ready to suffocate her in its kind arms. Her weak, craven husband was ready to gloop in her hands like clay that had been over watered. And Cora? Cora was ready to scream.

She closed her eyes, fighting off the wave of nausea, grasping for the memory of dark, swirling power and clenched fists and spicy lips that wrapped around her. The scent of antiquity and unborn future blending together with the smell of silk and leather, straw and magic.

"Rumple."

The whisper slipped out in a panting breath before she could stop it. She froze; her long lashes fluttering as she opened her eyes wide and stared about the room. Half breathless with the fear that he might be there and the terror that he might not be.

Nothing. Cora cleared her throat and stepped forward, clenching her fist to her chest to still an empty cavity where her heart should have been beating like a mad thing. The deed had been dared; his name had been spoken. She would not stop now. "Rumplestiltskin, I summon thee!"

Nothing. At least, to the untrained eye. But Cora instantly noticed a prickling, a shimmering wave that distorted the lines of the room by an ant's distance. In a moth's blink everything returned to normal. And for a moment, she felt a million somethings crawling under the soles of her feet. Telltale signs of a substance she had had some experience with. Magic.

She backed away until the cold stone balustrade was pressing against the small of her back. She leaned over it, letting her luscious brown hair tumble down and softly wave there, dangling under a night sky. Gripping tightly to the stone supports, she lifted one foot up, shifting her point of gravity until she was dangerously far over the edge.

"Dramatic way of getting my attention, dearie."

Her face already turned towards the stars, Cora almost lost her footing all together as she fought to quell the rise of sheer joy. As it was, she straightened up with a smile that was almost smug. She schooled it down, however. "It wasn't drama…it was need."

"Need?!" a shrieked giggle. There he was, standing before her fireplace. The dimly glimmering coals had been stoked into a raging fire, the molten orange glow driving away the moonlight and filling the room with warmth that flowed over her cold skin.

Just as before, he'd brought light and fire into her life. She could barely stop herself from rushing forward and throwing herself upon him, from looking deep into those brown and gold eyes and begging forgiveness, just begging him to take her away and hold her tightly to him, let her essence become one with his. As it was, she forced a small smile on, allowing her pain of missing him to become real tears that glimmered in her eyes. "Rumple…"

"Eh, eh, eh!" He gestured sharply with his hand, cutting her off. "I said you'd earned my name. Not my nickname. That was a lovely little act, but we both know you'd never have gone through with it."

Cora didn't swallow. But her eyes did change, staring at him with the first look besides overwhelming emotion. Now, she looked startled, wary…even a little angry. "What would satisfy you? Should I have stabbed myself in the chest instead?"

Rumplestiltskin began to pace towards the balcony, keeping his head turned so he could always watch her, his eyes intense, his smile bitter and frozen. He halted and pointed at her, grinning. "If you'd put your heart back in, then yes."

Cora dropped her gaze to the floor. She was testing him, touching all his limits, gauging just how much of him hated her, and how much missed her as she missed him. But above all, she was testing a theory that had only grown in her during her tenure as queen…the theory that maybe, just maybe, she could blindside him. She could outwit the Dark One.

One never knew unless one tried.

Rumplestiltskin paused at the balcony. He was a spiky black shadow in the moonlight, an ink stain on the white marble. "No, dearie, what I'm interested in is not the act…it's why you pulled the act. What could the _Queen_," he sneered mockingly, throwing his arms about in a grand gesture, "of all this wide realm want with the evil Imp? What can I possible offer _you_ that you haven't already gotten for yourself?"

"Rumple…" she hesitated.

"Don't call me that!" For the first time, the thin veneer of control shattered. He snarled at her with his black and yellow teeth, his eyes burning a thick, milky black of rage.

Cora felt the magic at his fingertips, the way she'd felt it in his hands as he stroked her arms. Only this time, there was no passionate intensity. Only a finely controlled urge to kill. "I just…I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

The magic fizzled out. Rumplestiltskin's eyes were wide and disbelieving. He giggled harshly. "Sorry?! Sorry has never been enough! And it never will be!" Like a tiger, he pounced forward and snapped his fingers. Reddish magic swirled in a cloud around him.

When it dissipated, Cora saw Elaine standing there in all her pale, pink and white finery. Elaine opened her mouth and spoke, her voice trembling, her eyes full of tears, "Cora…I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry I tripped you and humiliated you before the king and his son. And I'm sorry I lied about you, treating you worse than the dirt beneath my feet. Please, please do you forgive me?"

Cora's brown eyes were wide and fixed on the apparition. "No," she whispered.

"Aaaand there's your answer!" Rumplestiltskin's harsh voice broke the moment as Elaine shimmered out of existence, born away on a red cloud only to be replaced by the Dark One.

"How…how did you do that?" Cora took a fearless step towards him, reaching out a hand to wave it through the fading particles of magic as she stared wonderingly into his face.

"Shape-shifting spell," he deadpanned, shifting his head in a mocking manner. "And is it really so important? You just showed yourself that I can never forgive you." He leaned forward suddenly, so suddenly that Cora gasped. His scaly fingers ghosted threateningly over her fair throat before pointing a finger straight into her face. For the first time, his teeth looked like fangs to her, and his eyes were like twin pools of death, black with his victim's despair and red with their blood. "_Never_."

They stayed like this for several long minutes. Cora didn't even dare to breathe. If she even once opened her mouth, she felt as if all the shimmering magic in the room would rush inside her and burn her from the inside out.

The finger jerked away. Rumplestiltskin turned sharply and strode towards the fireplace. He was leaving.

Her thirst for him and all he was overrode her terror. Tightening her hands into fists to stop them from shaking, Cora straightened. The heat from the fire caused her nightgown to billow back towards the starry window behind her. Her face was painted red by the glow. "I know," she whispered harshly.

Rumplestiltskin halted, his black shadow stretching along the marble floor until it almost touched her bare feet. Cora took a step forward into that shadow. "I know what it feels like to be an utter outsider, a castaway, different and yet starving for something all the time…always hungry. I know what it's like to never forgive. And I can't tell you I didn't mean to do what I did. Whatever lies I ever told you or ever will…you know that's true. And you know I don't love my husband. You know there's only ever been one…" she choked. Swallowed.

The Dark One turned, painfully slow. His shadow shifted with him until he was facing her, his dark reflection reaching just above her waist as he took a single step forward. Cora lifted her chin. "You know I'm full of darkness and bloodlust…you said it was why you loved me."

"_Loved_." His face was hard to see, but she heard the guttural whisper.

"And you know…you _know_, the only reason I called, the only reason you came…it's because I miss you."

She could barely blink before his face was less than inches away from hers, his shadow swallowing up her pale nightgown completely as the red fire filled the room around them with the dark glow. But her head was high and her eyes burned brighter than any flame. She didn't touch him. She felt no need to. She only felt the burning cord that tied them together, the connection his eyes found when they met hers. There was no trust there, no forgiveness. But she was still part of him.

"I want to make a new deal. Stay with me." She ignored the instant flare of distrust and resentment. "Teach me everything I want to know. And when she's ready," she touched her belly slowly. It was empty as far as she knew, but that wouldn't last long, anyway. "You may have my child."

His eyes shot downwards and he stared at her stomach. She could see the wheels working inside his head and, for a moment, felt forgotten in the grand scheme of a much, much larger plan. She bit her lip, feeling silly for being so hurt by the notion.

He gazed thoughtfully at her, his face blank. Cora held her breath and tried to smile. Then, Rumplestiltskin's mouth smiled. "Consider it a deal, dearie."

* * *

One of the very first spells they ever worked on was shape shifting. Cora stared at the mirror with fierce intensity, never giggling if her eyebrows wriggled and wafted into another shape or disappeared entirely, or if her eyeballs slid down her cheeks and her nose grew too large for her face. Just as grimly, Rumplestiltskin made sure to criticize her constantly. She improved, he scolded, and she learned at an astonishing rate.

She remembered the first time he taught her; the first time he touched her. He never touched her now. He hovered near her, trying to teach yet also trying to cram away his approval; to stifle his little hums and giggles when she excelled at difficult spells (and there were so many difficult spells).

She remembered looking in the mirror and grinning, fingering the heavy black mustache that draped over her bristled chin. Lifting a thick eyebrow, she turned and smiled openly at her tutor. "How do I look?" Barely able to suppress a shiver of joy as her voice changed under her own power, coming out rough and gravelly.

Rumplestiltskin leaned against a table, his arms crossed. "Ravishing," he said dryly. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, walking towards her to pass a hand over her. "Yet, all it takes is this," he bopped her nose with his finger. Cora gasped, her control fracturing as she felt the magic slide away like a sheet of water. "And your _lovely_ face is back again."

He nearly snarled that single word, before brushing past her. Cora closed her eyes, leaning into his shoulder as it passed. Her own instincts, honed from weeks of grueling practice, timidly reached out to siphon magic from him, using it to reawaken her own. The sheets of water came pouring back into her bones, turning into an electricity that fired from her fingertips and clouded about her, purple and red.

She turned sharply at the same time as Rumplestiltskin did. He looked more annoyed than anything else. But his anger fled away as he saw what she'd transformed into. She wore a spiky black coat of leather, with high boots and draggled hair and a face covered in scales. In different lights, her skin changed from grey to green to gold. Her eyes had become deep and layered, hiding her pupils under a thick, milky surface. Gold flecks swam in her eyes…his eyes.

"Why?" his own voice asked him, "If you have all this power, all this skill, why haven't you changed your form?"

It took a moment to formulate a reply. His lips parted, but no sound came out as his eyes traveled wildly over his mirror image, as if he hadn't seen it in ages, yet was horribly fascinated to look at it again. His nostrils distended as if he'd gasped through them. Then, the dull annoyance crept back into his face and he snapped his fingers sharply.

Cora swayed as another cloud of red sprang up and revealed her once more. She regained her composure and glared at him. "You don't have to lie, not to me."

"Oh, because you're so trustworthy?" he sneered, pointing at her with both hands in one of his classic gestures. "Because we're so close I can tell you _anything_?!"

"Because I don't care about your skin," Cora snarled, surprised at herself, "I never have. But others do. So I wonder why you haven't changed yourself."

Rumplestiltskin just gazed at her with calculating eyes. He rubbed the fingers of one hand together. Cora could see the answer bubbling inside him, slowly rising to his mouth whether he wanted it to or not. She just had to wait. "Because it doesn't matter," he said finally, "not to anyone but me."

Cora's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "A shield," she said, slowly, "and a penance."

The fingers grew still. His eyes fluttered to the floor and he took a swinging step away, like an absent-minded dancer. Then, he looked up. Rumplestiltskin smiled, one side of his mouth stretching into a leer. "You should try it, dearie," he said finally, "try not having a heart, even when it's still beating in your chest."

* * *

"I don't need to eat," Rumplestiltskin said finally, glaring down at the tea service.

"Well, I do," Cora smiled sardonically before pouring herself a cup and using the little silver tongs to collect bits of meats and cheeses. "You can watch if you like. I just thought that, since it's my fault the lessons have been so long today, I might as well entertain you. Give you your money's worth. After all, you made me the Queen."

Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed and he sneered at her, "You made yourself the Queen, dearie. You let nothing stop you. Nothing could tempt you away from that all-consuming dream. Not promises, not threats, and certainly not me."

Cora froze. She tapped the silver tongs against her plate methodically. Without looking up, she replied, "Except my heart, remember?"

"The little red organ sitting behind the _secret_ panel in your bedroom?" Rumplestiltskin giggled bitterly, making a sharp pirouette and striding towards the window, "Yes, I remember."

Cora looked up sharply at that. "You've been _watching_ me?" she gasped, outraged.

He pointed a warning finger at her, not showing a single iota of guilt. "Be grateful it wasn't so much more, dearie! _No one_ breaks deals with me, and no one gets off as easily as you have!"

"I didn't break any deal," Cora said sourly, even as an unspoken question that whetted her curiosity floated through her mind, _Why me, why did you go easy on **me**?_

"You promised to make me a father. Nothing in the contract said when, or that you had to be willing!" He was suddenly right there in front of her, his hands slamming down among the tea things with a clatter as leaned over the table, his hot breath hitting her face. "You played with my words, dearie. I can play with words too…I can wring any meaning I please out of that silly paper, I can make your life a _hell_."

Cora stared at the fanged mouth. Then, without flinching, she looked up into the scaly face, the dimly lit eyes. At this close proximity, she could see that they glimmered with rage, but also _pain_. Which was useful to know. "Then why haven't you?" she whispered.

Rumplestiltskin reared away from her, throwing his hands up in the air. His voice had gone nasal and playful again, as if his brief show of temper had released the evil spirits that had been building up inside him all day. "It's not my style, really. I prefer to let people talk their way into their own personal hells…I let them stew their own goose."

"Besides…" his eyes narrowed again, his voice husky and low like a human being's, "you're doing just fine without my help. Heart or no heart, you'll always be miserable. Because you're _never_ satisfied."

Cora swallowed visibly at that. Her throat went up and down beneath the diamond choker as she carefully put down the tongs she had been clenching tightly all this time. Her lips tightened, her cheeks twitching under some hidden pain. "You and my father," she whispered harshly.

Rumplestiltskin's face relaxed completely for just a split instant, too quickly to be seen by the naked eye. He shook his head, pulling on an exasperated face. "What are you talking about, girl?" he almost shrieked, like an impatient child waiting to be told a story.

"My father," Cora murmured, staring at the fire with wet, angry eyes that smoldered, "a drunken lout who let my mother starve to death…he drank away our money and let our fields fall to ruin. By the time I was old enough to salvage what little living we could make off the remains of our mill, he slept through most of the day. I was trying to take care of _him_…you think it'd be the other way around."

Rumplestiltskin turned his back to her and gazed at the roof.

"A child shouldn't have to care for its father, not when the father doesn't give a whit whether you live or die. He abandoned me to a life of poverty and squalor. I was too lonely to be poor and too poor to marry…why do you think I'm never satisfied?! No wealth, no care, and no love! Just ambition to repair my ruined life…that's what my father gave me!"

"He sounds like a terrible man," Rumplestiltskin said finally. But his tone was cruel and disinterested as he flicked a hand at her. "I can see the resemblance."

Cora stared at his back, rage flooding out whatever sorrow she'd been cherishing. "And what about your father, Imp?" She spat out, clenching her silk dress in her hands, "You think I don't know a desperate soul? What mark did your father leave on _you_?"

Rumplestiltskin wheeled on her, so close and so quick that the spiky flaps on his coat nearly whipped her in the face. His hand lay on the table but his fingers were bent, cupping a magical flame. Cora flinched, but made no other movement.

Rumplestiltskin's eyes were so thick with darkness that they looked like the eyes of a beast. There was no intelligence, no reason or awareness in them. His yellow teeth barely showed in a vague snarl as he stared at her, not even breathing. Cora wasn't breathing either.

Seconds ticked by. His eyelids slid down and up, forcing the gold flecks to stir and the pupils to resurface. His face relaxed. With a sharp gesture, he flung the magical flames into the hearth, where her tiny fire flared up with a hungry roar that nearly bit into her skirts. She pulled away and turned to look at him, wary.

The edges of his lips twitched into a weak smile and he let out a tiny laugh. Cora blinked with relief, realizing he'd managed to control himself. With a tiny clink of silver, his fingers played along the set of spoons a moment before rubbing themselves in the air near his chin. "Lessons," he said slowly, still smiling, "are over today."

With a rushing murmur and a poof of purple smoke, he was gone.

Cora let out a deep, shuddering sigh, falling back into her chair. No doubt her deal had saved her, that...and the unborn child in her womb. She couldn't remember the last time he'd been that enraged. Her mind filtered through their conversations, savoring and storing the memories of _father_ and _abandon_ and_ taking care of_ away for future reference.

Then, slowly, she picked up her cup with a steady hand and sipped at her cooling tea. Over the rim of the cup, a small, secret smile peeked out, her brown eyes sparkling with power, both magical and psychological. The power of success.

* * *

Cora deposited the infant Regina into the crib. Still dressed in her ceremonial silk gown, the baby's feet slowly kicked under the thing, weakly searching for freedom. Cora sat down on a velvet-lined chair beside the crib and waved sharply at her obligatory servants. "Leave me," she ordered, not even sparing them a glance. She heard the reluctant patter of their feet on marble and the muffled creak as they closed the door.

"They all looked quite pretty, didn't they? All those rich and noble people, kneeling before you and looking half as tall?" His voice came immediately, as she knew it would, "Was it as satisfying as you thought it'd be?"

Cora closed her eyes without smiling, trying to recreate the throne room scene in her head once more. "It was," she breathed.

"I hope it was worth the baby…heard you screaming for miles away. Luckily it wasn't my name…that would've been a tiny bit embarrassing."

Cora hadn't screamed. She remembered that distinctly. Except when Henry insisted on being there at her most vulnerable…for about three minutes, when she threatened to get up out of bed. Xavier had known better than to even try to get his son back in the birthing room.

"Are you here to make petty jibes, or inspect your merchandise?" she asked sourly. There was a sharp clacking on the floor as Rumplestiltskin walked over the flagstones and knelt beside the crib, almost on her skirts. Resting his arms on one knee, he stared down at the thing. He said nothing. Cora said nothing.

Regina had fallen asleep. But now, as the Dark One's trousers touched the wooden sides of her crib, she began to stir. Jealously, Cora wondered if her daughter felt the Imp's magic with the same peculiar capacity as she did. Suddenly, the baby's eyes lazily peeled open, revealing chocolate orbs that seemed warm and kind. "Brown," Cora said aloud, fancifully, "like yours."

She realized only directly afterwards what a stupid thing that was to say. A stupid thing that belonged with her stupid heart upstairs. It was just that there, all alone, gazing intently down at the infant together, she thought…stupid. She was stupid.

Rumplestiltskin, however, didn't seem to notice. Instead, without even glancing at Cora for permission, he reached down and hesitantly touched Regina's chubby arm with his scaly finger. Instantly, to Cora's reluctant glee, the baby began to cry. "Fickle, like you," Rumplestiltskin snapped. He stood up and backed away, but the baby didn't stop crying.

Cora watched her dreamily. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Rumplestiltskin rolled her eyes heavenward, his voice growing in volume, "She'd be even prettier, if her mother, would stop gawking and take her in her arms!" he ended with an irritated snarl.

Surprised, Cora glanced at him. Then she reached in and scooped up Regina, settling the little thing in her arms and bouncing her gently. Regina quieted down a moment, surprised at her new surroundings. Cora smiled with satisfaction, using her new powers to materialize a ragged doll to chew on.

As she soothed the baby, she kept furtively glancing out of the corners of her eyes at Rumplestiltskin. He too was watching furtively. Not her, but the baby in her arms. Jealously flared in her as she recognized that look. Had some connection, some burning, golden strand of energy, linked itself between her own child and the master of magic, as it had done for her? Was her daughter the only reason Rumplestiltskin had come to her at all, watched over her, come back for her? Was her daughter to replace her?

Cora wasn't stupid. Of course she was.

Yet, having a child was a step closer to the Dark One, and every step closer to him was a step closer to tapping into the power he possessed, and the dark heart he claimed to keep. Speaking of which…

"You remember that chapter you had me read earlier this year, when I told you I was pregnant?" she asked softly, turning her head to look at Rumplestiltskin, "I know you just wanted me to understand what you wanted with her…but I read further than that. I read about the power of an infant's tears, anyone's tears…she's wasting so many, right now." She shifted her grip as Regina burst into a fresh bout of screaming sobs that both magicians winced at. Cora stood up and moved towards Rumplestiltskin as he looked down at the child in her arms. "Go ahead, take some. Save them for a rainy day."

Without moving anything save his eyes, Rumplestiltskin glared sideways at her. "And what would you expect back, as payment?"

Cora smiled sadly. "Forgiveness," she whispered. Then, silently, she pushed her cradled burden against the leathery chest, into the long arms with their sharp sleeves. Her smile widened as she saw how naturally the Dark One held the baby. She looked up into his face and saw him watching her, daring her to show a sign of alarm or mistrust.

Opening her hands wide, palms forward, she backed away. "I trust you," she said quietly before turning around and nonchalantly striding towards the opposite side of the room. She halted before her tall mirror, using it to watch the creature holding her baby.

Rumplestiltskin didn't appear to notice. He was staring at her back with the most open, confused, worried face she'd ever seen on him. His emotions hung plainly there for all to see…sorrow and wonder, distrust and belief, distance…and need. Longing. _Love_.

So, he _had_ missed her.

He finally turned away as Regina started to fuss, louder than ever before. She kicked in his arms and grabbed at the spikes with infantile fury. Rumplestiltskin showed no reaction to her show of passion…he'd dealt with such innocent, helpless anger before, the anger of a human child. He reached out into the air and flicked his hand around. A transparent vial appeared in his fingers, glinting as the sunlight shone through it.

He held it to the chubby cheek as Regina's weak little head twitched feebly. One by one, the tears were coaxed inside. Then, with a deft movement of his fingers, never letting go of the baby, Rumplestiltskin sealed the vial shut and pushed it into his pocket.

As Cora watched, his scaly hand, now freed, came down and gently patted the white silk surrounding the bundle. His wiry arms rocked up and down ever so slightly, the wrinkled concentration in his face melting away as a silent, comforting whisper escaped his lips.

Instantly, Regina stopped crying and stared up at her future owner's face with wide-eyed wonder, murmuring to herself, stunned by something. Rumplestiltskin didn't quite smile…but a little hum of contentment did escape him.

Cora didn't know who she was more jealous of…the baby Rumplestiltskin seemed to care for, or the Imp her own child stopped crying for.

* * *

Cora watched from her seat by the fire as Rumplestiltskin waved his hands over the flagstones, wiping away the markings made by the complicated ritual she had performed earlier that day. Regina lay flat on her belly on a woolen mat, her fat little legs kicking as she giggled at the purple clouds coming from the Dark One's magic.

They were far bigger than they needed to be, and Cora was certain it was all for Regina's benefit. She loved her baby, but why, why did there have to be such a strong connection between her dark ex-lover and her child, but not her? What sort of joke was life playing on her, showing her the kind of family she could have had, but now never would?

"This could have been our baby," she mused, watching the Dark One carefully as he dusted off his hands and made his way towards the fire until his boots touched the mat Regina lay upon. The baby reached forward and pawed at the shiny black tips of his them.

"But," he glanced down at the chubby little thing, but his gaze linger too long to be as dismissive as he wanted Cora to think. His voice, however, was neutral enough, "As you made crystal clear, it _isn't_."

Cora turned towards the fire, feeling miserable, angry, and regretful at the same time. "I'm such a fool," she whispered finally.

"Eh?" the barely spoken question, rather than a string of cruel jibes, was certainly an improvement. So too was the neutral tone he'd been using around her, and the once in a while slip of "Cora" instead of "dearie."

Cora shook her head slowly, never looking away from the flickering flames that seemed to burn inside her brown eyes. "I just…I feared poverty. I was terrified of going back to that other life, the one my father left me as his legacy. Yet I didn't want to be alone. I wanted security, protection, and power."

She felt his magic brush curiously over her, as if trying to read her. She let it. He would only find the truth. "I know…I tore my own heart out, how could I love or even want to love? But I did, oh, I did…I _do_."

Her hand flew up to her chin, a tight, nervous fist as she tried to reign in her emotions as they bled out into the air, before a vision of the happiness she had completely rejected. She turned suddenly to stare boldly back at Rumplestiltskin, throwing away all her defenses, all her control. "This…you, and Regina…seeing you now I…for me, it would have been enough. I wouldn't have cared. For you, I'd have done it. But could we really raise a child like that? Raise her in darkness and isolation? Make her as dark and bloodthirsty as we are?"

"Maybe."

Cora shook her head violently and threw her face into her arms. "You don't understand!" her voice was raw. "You don't understand what it's like…having a child, my child…made it all clear to me!"

She knew he understood exactly what she was talking about. His next words proved it.

"Maybe you're right. I…about the child, I mean." Warm, scaly fingers pressed against her chin and lifted her face up. She blinked up at him, feeling cold trails of tears down her cheeks, leaving her brown eyes bright and sparkling.

"You still…" Rumplestiltskin swallowed with difficulty, his nasally voice breaking ever so slightly, "…lied to me." He quickly drew his hand away and clasped it with the other one, pointing down at the baby. "But if this was all about Regina, I'd understand…really, I would."

"How could you, Rumple?" she whispered.

"I…" he hesitated. Regina gurgled aloud and his eyes, now a warm, dusky brown, fluttered down to her, dim and tender with ancient memory, "I had a son, once."

* * *

Cora's spectacle achieved exactly what she'd wanted. Whatever strange bond attached Rumplestiltskin to her child was dwarfed by their own reignited strand of energy. For a while, they all played at family. Rumplestiltskin began greeting her by name, began bringing small treats and toys for Regina.

While Cora encouraged them to grow closer, she continued to grow closer to him. She didn't care about his scales, or his ugly soul. They shared a past of broken families and a mutual hatred of the world. She tried to free him from his inexplicable shame, tried to open up his dark heart and encourage his power to flow freely, unhampered by his emotions. His emotions she kept for herself, helping him forget his sadness, sharing in his rage, and thrilling alongside him as he performed and taught her feats of magic beyond imagination.

She shivered when his warm, scaly hands brushed down her arms for the first time in ages. She leaned back into his chest, closing her eyes in bliss as his hands guided her. Powerful magic swirled through his skin where it touched hers, hardening her finger bones, writhing their like living fire. Her breath came short and her eyes glowed as she tasted that fountain of immeasurable power once more.

She struggled to slow down, but she was achieving so much, so quickly. With the Dark One's personal support, magic became her plaything. She bent it to her will until it broke and cracked against the stones and reformed eternally, soaring through the air and around the room before alighting on her hands again. It sat there comfortably, shimmering and sparkling. Piece by piece, more and more of the world bowed to her skill and power until she could dominate reality as effectively as she could dominate her husband.

And with their newly forged trust, her secret little family grew stronger. She would pick up Regina and kiss her, passing her to Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One would never kiss the baby, at least, not when he thought Cora was looking…but he would give her a look she could never quite fathom…approval? Longing? Or even, perhaps, happiness?

One day, on a warm summer evening, Cora watched Rumplestiltskin bounce Regina in his lap while Cora puttered around some useless task she'd used as an excuse to give the baby to him. Then she sat down and clasped her hands, watching them with a contented smile that was genuine and warm.

Suddenly, she realized something. Her face fell and her magic, reacting to her sudden fear, turned icy. Rumplestiltskin felt it. He looked up. "What?"

"This…" she said quietly, her voice barely more than a broken whisper, "This won't last forever."

Rumplestiltskin looked like he didn't want to answer. He just watched her. Her eyes grew red as she stared at a spot on the floor by his boots. "You, me, Regina…she'll grow. You'll take her away, she'll be gone…_you'll_ be gone. You'll leave me. Forever."

Regina chewed on her fist as Rumplestiltskin suddenly tucked her up against his chest and stared at Cora. "It'll…really bother you, that much?"

Cora's chair flew back into the wall with a booming crash. She stood over him, her eyes bright and wet, her brown hair loose and waving down her back. For the first time, her face looked as it had the night she told him goodbye…only worse. "What do you _think_?!" she screamed. Her tears broke, rushing down her beautiful face as he stared up at her, aghast. "It did before, and it does now, heart or no heart!" she cried, before rushing past him and disappearing through the doors.

She stopped once she got to her personal quarters, breathing hard. Using one arm, she roughly wiped away her tears and then threw herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillows. She blew out the candle and put herself to sleep, in case he should follow her and see that her tears, while real, would never last long. Behind the secret panel, the abandoned heart beat dully.

* * *

The next morning she opened her puffy, hot eyes and blinked at what seemed to be a dark blur by the balcony. She blinked a few more times and saw that it was Rumplestiltskin. He stood there in the hot, white sunlight of the morning, his back turned towards her as he gazed across the garden, hands clasped in front of him, booted feet planted wide apart.

Cora got up quickly, never even thinking of reaching for the silken robe that hung on a nail by her bed. While her mind had always been a precious, hidden thing, made up of bits she gave freely away and others she guarded jealously, her body was something she had never been shy with. And while her psychological relationship with the Dark One was a twisted path fraught with secrecy and pain and strange passion, her physical one was very simple indeed, the few times it had ever begun to flourish.

Clad in nothing but her white nightgown, as before, she went towards him. As her bare feet fell silently on the white marble floors, he turned to meet her. He kept his hands grasped tightly together and, for a moment, Cora was struck with terror that her outburst of last night had caused him to announce his departure that very moment.

"We…we are not having lessons, not today…tomorrow, yes, and many days after but…" His tongue seemed to trip over his words. Curious, Cora watched him take a few steps towards her. When he was close enough to reach out and touch her shoulders, he suddenly waved his hands together for a moment.

Her eyes widened with delight as the magic swirled through the air between his fingers and solidified into a solid shape. She couldn't stop a little gasp of delight as a beautiful book rested in his hands, bound with a criss-cross of golden latches and set with little gems. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, indeed. "What's this?" she asked.

The answer to that particular question hadn't apparently been thought of yet. Rumplestiltskin looked at it, passing it from hand to hand like a nervous juggler. "Think of it as…eh…a graduation present!" With an inane giggle, he pushed it into her hands.

"For me?!" Cora had hardly expected this kind of reaction. A huge grin split her face as she exclaimed with delight over the little thing. No one, no one in her entire life had ever given her a present. Gifts of respect and tribute and ceremony, yes, but never a present. "No one's…ever done anything like this for me before!" She covered her mouth a moment.

Rumplestiltskin allowed his face to break into a smile. "You'd better be pleased, your majesty…you have to learn every spell in that book before the year is out!"

"Spell…it's a spell book?" Cora's joy increased tenfold. All the books she'd ever read on magic were loaned to her by her teacher. Now she had one for her very own. She fumbled at the cover to open it, and noticed the large red gem on the front. An exquisite ruby, cut into the shape of a heart.

A heart.

Like the one she'd torn out of her chest, the one she'd withheld from Rumplestiltskin…she looked up at him, eyes wide. He nodded slightly, gazing down at the book and then back at her with his gold-flecked eyes. "I forgive you, completely."

The book nearly dropped from her dangling fingers. She reached forward and grabbed his hand pulling him back with her. In response, his arms curled up around her suddenly, pulling her against his chest.

She ran her hand up his neck and through his hair as they tottered back together. Then, suddenly, she crushed her lips into his and they were kissing. She felt his breath, spicy with magic. She sucked it in, cradling his neck and chest and head and every part of him, loving the strange, forgiving creature and basking in the power that poured from him, black and warm and overwhelming. She felt it all.

They fell back into the bed together. His heart beat under her fingertips, quick and rapid as Henry's never would be. His mouth strong and full of power as Henry's weren't. She didn't even want to think about Henry. She wanted the Dark One.

Yet, even as he stroked her hair and kissed her and whispered a thousand promises for their future together, she reveled in the knowledge that she'd done it. Once more, Rumplestiltskin trusted her. Once more, he needed her. Once more, he'd given his heart to her.

* * *

Cora learned every spell in the book by heart. The months passed by in a blissful blur. She bore no more children, not to Henry, not to Rumplestiltskin. All her political hopes were pinned on Regina, and all her magical ambitions she shared with the Dark One.

And then, one fateful afternoon in autumn, she asked him. "Rumple, darling, when will I be as powerful as you are?"

Rumplestiltskin was watching her conjurated monster with interest as it tore through the rings of fire he'd created. A bit of fun to liven up a dull day, the creature had no other purpose than to do what it was told, preferably twice as quickly each time.

He reached down to stroke her hair where she lay, with her head in his lap. "Never, love. And unfortunately, I'm running out of things to teach you, at least, things that you can handle."

"That I can _handle_?!" Cora sat up and turned to look at him, outraged.

Rumplestiltskin merely smiled at her, never realizing just how serious this was for her. "You're not the Dark One, dearie. You're merely an incredibly powerful, beautiful woman, perhaps the most powerful sorceress in the entire realm."

"You mean I…I've reached my limit?" Cora looked at her hands as if they were to blame for this horrible handicap.

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "No dearie, not quite! But soon. Regina, on the other hand…" he lifted the baby from where she was crawling around his boots and plopped her into his lap. "She's everything my visions told me she'd be. Your…_our_ daughter, is the most powerful natural sorceress _I've_ ever encountered. Even with dark magic, she'll be impossible to beat…unless you're me, of course."

Cora stared at the baby, whose soft brown hair, so like her own, almost reached her shoulders by now. For the first time since that earlier event last year, she felt intense jealousy again. Jealousy…and rage. But not just of her daughter. Of Rumplestiltskin, of the whole world. "So," she said carefully, her words tight and clipped, "you'll take Regina, and I'll be forgotten?"

Rumplestiltskin looked at her. He shuffled Regina back to the floor again and smiled, "My, what a jealous lover you are! You'll never be forgotten, pet. None of this would be possible without you…and you've given me, well, not your heart, but as much as you could. You've given me love."

"Yes," Cora breathed, her mind meanwhile racing, "I love you."

"And I," Rumplestiltskin murmured gently, touching her arm invitingly, "love you."

Cora threw herself into that kiss as if it would be the last one they would ever share.

For a long, long time now, her love for Rumplestiltskin had been poisoned by one nagging thought. He was power, swirling around a despicably soft heart. Yes, that soft heart had forgiven her and returned to her when a wiser, harder man's wouldn't have, but…if he'd just remove his heart as she did hers, he would be a deep, dark pool of storming magic, unfettered, unstoppable…Cora shuddered at the thought of it.

Already, she saw a clear way to becoming more powerful than either of them. Cora had no heart. A heart was weakness. A heart loved. She could tether Regina's, bind it to herself with one of the many spells and potions Rumplestiltskin had taught her. Regina would never grow, never succeed without her mother. She would become queen, and Cora would rise with her, always guarding, always ruling. Her daughter would never abandon her.

And Rumplestiltskin? If he would only forget about his son, the boy he loved so much, then he would forget about taking Regina away. If he would only stay with Cora, regardless of whether he loved her or not…

Cora smiled, snuggling in with Rumplestiltskin, reaching over his lap to touch her baby's soft, downy head as Regina struggled to look up at her with chocolate brown eyes.

She would have her family, dark and twisted and heartless and together forever.

She would take _both_ their hearts.

* * *

Regina was sixteen months old by now, a cheerful almost-toddler who seemed to be rather late with everything from potty training to her first steps. Rumplestiltskin had mentioned off-handedly that it was normal for magic-sensitive babies, especially the ones exposed to magic since birth. Cora sometimes wondered how he knew that.

But she didn't have time to wait for nature to complete her daughter. Tonight, Rumplestiltskin was coming over for dinner. Tonight, he would discuss Regina's future with Cora. It was something they had both been putting off, ever since the baby's first big and bright smile. But then, after a seemingly random event of Regina grabbing Rumplestiltskin's ridiculous nose, the Dark One seemed to be in a sudden rush to find his son. Tonight, Cora had to take action.

She bent down and scooped up Regina under the arms, pulling the chubby, chattering child to her feet. Unlike her dexterity, Regina's vocabulary had come quickly to her. She could now say "Mama", and "Mik", and of course, her own special name for Rumplestiltskin, "Wuppel".

Carefully holding onto her little daughter, Cora gently let her magic seep into the chubby little legs, strengthening them, guiding them…it wasn't permanent, but it would give Regina a little extra boost for a few moments.

Trusting Regina's safety to the spell, Cora released her. Regina tottered forward, squealing unintelligibly as she struggled towards the stone balcony. Luckily, a baby fence woven out of willow guarded the bottom so she couldn't tumble out. Keeping her eyes on Regina, Cora cast out thin tendrils of magic, bare wisps that floated all around her room on every plain of existence. Just the first powerful waves of the Dark One's approaching presence would blow them away, instantly alerting Cora that he was about to appear.

It was less than two or three minutes before Cora felt her searching strands snap and dissipate. She quickly bent over little Regina, exclaiming in delight. There was a sharp clack-clack as Rumplestiltskin paced eagerly towards them over the flagstones. "What, what is it?"

Cora swooped up the toddler in her arms and bounced her on her hip, all smiles. "She's taken her first step, look!" she cried, before plopping the baby into the Dark One's arms.

Completely familiar and at ease, Rumplestiltskin adjusted his hold until Regina was also sitting on his hip, his left hip. This position forced his arm away from his chest. With the other hand, he fondled Regina's satin slippers, perhaps fantasizing about a perfect little pair of white calfskin boots. He looked over at Cora expectantly, his brown eyes bashful and bright, as if he was ashamed at his human excitement. "As precocious as her wicked mother is, I presume?"

Cora merely laughed and leaned in to give him a passionate kiss on the lips that left them both breathless.

And that was when her hand plunged deep, deep into his chest, purple magic blossoming out around her wrist. Rumplestiltskin's lips ripped away from hers as he gave a ragged gasp, sucking in air like a scream that had been reversed. Regina stared down at the purple light, fascinated and startled.

A purple cloud swirled between his feet, vaguely shaped like a cushion. But despite the intense pain and shock that wracked his body, Rumplestiltskin didn't drop Regina to the ground below as Cora had expected him to. He held on, falling to one knee, crumpling under the agony until Cora finally tightened her grip and ripped out what she knew was his heart.

It wasn't like her heart had been, when she first pulled it out. This one was horribly strong, jarring her fingers as it throbbed with blood. It was black as coal, with a feeble center of ruby red that glowed dimly within. Enthralled, she stared at it for a few precious seconds, wondering if this was what true power felt like, holding the heart of your enemy. She wondered whether his heart was black with his dark magic or black with blood made of ink and ash. Her idle thoughts cost her precious time.

Terrifying waves of powerful magic, uncontrolled and instinctive and as raw and mighty as the ocean in its rage slammed right into her, regardless of the life she held in her hand. Cora would have flown back and crashed into the stone wall behind her, neck broken and back twisted, had she not called upon her own magic and cut a thin path through the blast. It was relatively simple to shield herself from the uncontrolled deluge. Squinting against the burning wind of sheer power, she lifted up Rumplestiltskin's heart with her free hand, and squeezed.

Even through the roar of wind, she heard Rumplestiltskin's sharp scream of anguish and defeated rage as he finally gave way to the agony in his empty chest. The storm dissolved into the walls, cracking and splintering them. Cora stood unharmed, breathing frantically, clutching the dark heart aloft.

Just across the room, Rumplestiltskin was on all fours, hair hanging before his face, his leather coat tattered and ripped from the sheer force of the magical discharge. And yet, Regina lay unharmed on the floor between his splayed out palms, staring up at him with wide eyes. And somehow, as she always had with the Imp…she did not cry.

A long, long minute. Finally, Rumplestiltskin's head flew up with inhuman speed, whipping the hair from his face. Blood trickled from a corner of his lips, perhaps from a bitten tongue. The night sky was cold, as it had been when Cora first met him, and when she first met him once more. Only this time, the fire had been blown out. There was no passionate orange glow, and there was no pure moonlight either. What little dim, yellow glimmer the lanterns gave was caught in his eyes, brittle and sharp as blades. And his eyes…his eyes were terrible. Haunted. Murderous. _Burning_ with the fever of betrayal, and loss, and utter hatred.

In one fluid motion, he was on his feet. To tame him, to _test_ him, Cora tossed a powerful blast of force. He caught it and, within one second, it was zooming right back at her. She gathered force and leapt to the side like a bird. The great oaken bed snapped off its hinges and flew at her. Again, she gathered her magic and shielded herself. The bed flew to pieces on impact, but large slivers of wood still blasted through and punctured her skin. Some were as deep as a finger's length and began to bleed.

Cora stumbled away from the mess, her silk skirts tearing under her high heels. Realizing it was a hindrance, she snapped her fingers. The dark blue evening gown turned into butterflies that flew off and died in the crackling heat of the air around them. Cora stood there in a quickly imagined hunter's trousers and shirts, something she'd seen earlier that day.

She waited for Rumplestiltskin to comment on how she was back to where she started…but all that came was a dinner knife that transformed itself into a massive blade of fire. She hurriedly tried to wrestle away his control of it and completely failed. Instead, she held his heart before her and held her ground. At the last minute, the sword faltered and failed.

For a dark, terrible moment, Rumplestiltskin stood on the other side of the room. Magic swirled around him in a black, seething storm that, after so much training, Cora could finally _see_. It billowed about him, puffing his ragged hair. He looked so ugly with his hatred now…Cora could barely believe she'd ever thought of marrying this man, of making him her husband. Not because she didn't love him, oh no. She only saw now, in his rage, that he wasn't human and never would be. Feral and vicious and unstoppable. He was not human. He was power incarnate.

And she loved him all the more for it.

Yet, when she looked closer into his face, she saw the pain there. The hurt. The broken trust and disbelief, even now, that she'd just ripped his heart out. And she realized she'd made a mistake. The hatred she found so attractive wasn't dampened by those emotions…it was strengthen, escalated, even harder to control.

Without her heart, she had misjudged, hadn't realized…how much a heart can hurt, until you don't even want it anymore. And yet, despite all that pain, you become even stronger…

Because you still carry it.

And Rumplestiltskin, emotional, indecisive, foolish Rumplestiltskin…he didn't even have a heart anymore. With an animalistic snarl he leapt forward, flying through the air as if gravity had never cursed him at birth, his eyes glowing with hate as if the heart she held had never been in his chest. His clawed hands stretching murderously towards her with the intention to rip apart and _obliterate_…as if he'd never met before.

For one of the few times in her life, Cora began to panic. She backed away, squeezing ineffectually at the heart. She broke out in a cold sweat as she suddenly realized she couldn't crush it. There was only one way, Rumplestiltskin had told her, that a Dark One could be killed…

He crashed into her, his magic radiating painfully through her body, wracking her bones, snapping and cracking them and focusing its terrible force on her very brain, burning at her eyes, filling her with white-hot agony. Her throat was sealed by the power she so craved. She heard something snarled in her ear as claws ripped through her fingers and snatched the heart back. "You will _not_ be the witch who stands between _me_ and my _**son**_!"

Just as suddenly, all the ear popping force that ravaged her body faded away. The heavy weight left her. Cora coughed in misery, liquid welling in her mouth. With trembling hands, she pushed herself up to a sitting position.

Her sight came back just in time for her to watch Rumplestiltskin standing above her as he shoved his heart back in with a grunt of pain, bent over slightly, taking a few moments to just breathe again.

Somewhere in the destruction, Regina gave a weak cry.

Rumplestiltskin froze. Cora froze. Their gazes met.

Next instant, Cora was up and running. Rumplestiltskin's magic was already wrapping around her body, ready to smash her into the wall and crush her there like a fly. Desperate to stall him, Cora shouted back the words, "let me find my baby!"

And, miraculously, he did. The magic faded. She used her own power, now freely with both hands, to toss debris here and there until she unearthed her child, miraculously unharmed. Ignoring the baby's cries, she picked her up and turned to face the Dark One.

She held a conjured knife to the soft little throat.

Breathing hard, almost too weak to stand, Cora began shouting. "Now that we've…had our little chat, Rumple…I want to discuss terms."

The animal in him had faded. His dark eyes were masked over by pain; the crocodile skin a dull green that darkened protectively over his features. He stepped towards Cora, hands clenched.

She blinked as he approached her, barely taller than she was, old and wizened and full of power. His voice was torn, deep and husky like that of the man he had once been before life and power itself chewed him up and spat him back out as the strange creature that stood before her, "_Why_?!"

He looked like he would shatter into a thousand pieces if she touched him…he looked like he would tear her every fiber apart if she said the wrong word. Cora wanted to close her eyes, but she forced herself to stare right back at him. "You know I'll do it. If I can't have Regina, than you certainly can't. I'll kill my baby before I let someone take her away from me."

She took a bold, deliberate step forward. He flinched back, whether for fear she'd go through with it or simply through fear of _her_, she didn't know. The latter would be absurd…but she knew it was true. Rumplestiltskin was afraid of her, afraid that she would hurt him again in the one place his magic could not heal him…his heart.

"I know your deals, once made, can't be destroyed or broken. But we both know they can be altered. So, alter our second deal…you can still have Regina, but only after she calls your name. Which, be assured, she will never hear. Also you will leave and never return, never come near me. I never want to see you again."

She was lying, but she meant every word.

Rumplestiltskin stared back at her, stunned. He couldn't speak. His hands trembled. For a moment, Cora thought he would just split and run, disappear, leave her to kill the baby or not, as she chose. "Rumple…" she said warningly. And still, he would not stop _staring_ at her.

Then, miracle of miracles, Regina spoke one of her few words. "Wuppel."

A shudder ran through his body. He closed his eyes, somehow looking so very small, and old, and _human_. There was a long silence. When he opened them once more, his eyes were a dim brown, lifeless and dull. "The deal…" the words came out in a choked, tortured way, "is altered."

Cora felt the magic tremble in the air. She knew he told the truth. She dropped the knife and it clattered to the floor, painfully loud. Clutching Regina tightly to herself, she stepped towards him. He turned sharply and began to walk away.

"Rumple…"

"Aren't you done?" he snarled, "Aren't you _done_?!" the last word sounded like a stifled sob.

"I didn't want to kill you…I just…no one will ever love you as I do, Rumple…"

"You're a LIAR, Cora!" his tortured voice was louder than she'd ever heard it before. It echoed across the broken stones, causing dust to fall from the damaged roof. Far away, Cora heard the guards trying to shoulder aside the protective energy barrier she'd set up earlier.

"You never loved me! Never have! It's the magic, the power, that's all ever you wanted!"

Cora felt like crying. "I want you both…"

Rumplestiltskin stopped. Clenching the balcony with both hands, he gave out a strange moan of bottled up agony and helpless despair, something like a wolf's lonely wail. His voice was raw and guttural, his next words crushed and thick with tears. "You can't love, Cora. Even before you tore your heart out, you didn't know what it was. You had a chance to learn…and you threw it away. Like I threw away my son. And you'll always throw it away. But I thank you…for teaching me one thing, after everything I've taught you."

He turned, his face suddenly right in front of hers. His breath seemed icy cold as he whispered, his face a mask of scales, dark and glittering with pain, "In your hell, there's no room for love. And for me…love _is_ hell, impossible and painful."

He stepped away from her. Cora felt a sharp pain where her heart should be. She frantically held Regina out towards him. Somewhere in her mind, she was scrabbling for their contented little family of the past. "Don't you…do you want to say goodbye? Rumplestiltskin? Rumple!"

Without answering, he snapped his fingers. Yet, even as the purple cloud devoured him, he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. He could not look away. And as she watched him, Cora realized just how much she'd ruined him. Again. Because she had to. And she did not regret it.

She stood alone in the wreckage of her room, the air frigid and empty, bereft of moonlight, bereft of firelight. Slowly, she dropped to her knees. Slowly, a single tear fell to the cold, fractured flagstones. Slowly, irresistibly, it slid down a single crack and disappeared into the deep, black darkness below.

FINIS


End file.
